


been ready for you all my night

by kwanureeves (outomaatti)



Series: could you come by? [1]
Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Slice of Life, and a bit of a pillow prince, hansol is just whipped, service top chwe hansol, seungkwan is a bit of a power bottom, seungkwan is too tbh, they bicker like an old married couple
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:34:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27125923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/outomaatti/pseuds/kwanureeves
Summary: Seungkwan comes home after a twelve-hour work shift. Hansol helps him unwind.
Relationships: Boo Seungkwan/Chwe Hansol | Vernon
Series: could you come by? [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2014705
Comments: 28
Kudos: 226





	been ready for you all my night

**Author's Note:**

> this prompt popped into my head and would not leave me alone until I had plowed through and finished it within like 48 hours or something. it’s super self indulgent and I loved every second of writing it so I hope you enjoy it too ♡
> 
> title is from ’nights’ by frank ocean.

It’s a little past four in the afternoon when Hansol’s phone beeps and vibrates on the couch. He sets down his controller, stretching futilely towards the other edge of the couch, full well knowing that the phone is miles beyond his reach but grumbling under his breath anyway.

A Kakao notification pops up as he crawls over and unlocks the phone. Next to the yellow icon is Seungkwan’s name and a long keysmash string below it. He should be at work, but Hansol figures he’s texting him on his break, so he taps on the notification.

**Boo Seungkwan  
** Ghfdls.-,:_f,msdghzlds

 **hansol_vc  
** same  
whats up

 **Boo Seungkwan  
** Work’s one fucking chaos today  
Can I come over after? 

**hansol_vc  
** ofc  
u hungry?

 **Boo Seungkwan  
** Starving...

 **hansol_vc  
** lemme know when you get off work  
ill order something for us to eat

 **Boo Seungkwan  
** I literally love you  
And will do

 **hansol_vc  
** anythign specific u want?

 **Boo Seungkwan  
** You  
Shit  
I mean

 **hansol_vc  
** that’s bold but im down

 **Boo Seungkwan  
** Sent too early sorry

 **hansol_vc  
** yeah right

 **Boo Seungkwan  
** 😭  
I meant you can pick  
The food  
I’m down with whatever

**hansol_vc  
** **👌**

**Boo Seungkwan  
** Ok gotta go  
Wish me luck  
I’ll text you

 **hansol_vc  
** u got this  
cya

Hansol closes Kakao and opens the food delivery app. Like his boyfriend, he bears no strong preferences for tonight’s food choice either, but he figures Seungkwan would likely enjoy a safer choice, especially if he’s coming home after a hellish day working at the hospital. Then again, since it’s Hansol’s pick this time, he figures it could be fun to go with something with a little element of surprise.

After a moment of scrolling, Hansol comes upon that one Thai hole-in-the-wall restaurant located a few blocks away from his apartment. He recalls him and Seungkwan having had food there once before. They had stumbled there at god-knows-what-in-the-morning after a night of drinking, both of them starving and relieved to find a place open at that hour. 

While Hansol doesn’t remember much from that night in itself, he’s grateful for his alcohol-induced selective memory recalling Seungkwan really liking the red curry. It was, in fact, what Hansol had originally ordered for himself, but after asking to steal a spoonful, Seungkwan had just continued eating the curry as if it were his own. Hansol had been too drunk to point that out to him, so what he had done was to silently slide the bowl of curry closer to Seungkwan, and continue to eat Seungkwan’s fried noodles instead.

One corner of Hansol’s mouth tugs upwards at the memory, and he makes a mental note to order two red curries once Seungkwan texts him again.

* * *

Hansol’s not sure how long he’s been scrolling aimlessly at various social media sites when his phone vibrates once more.

**Boo Seungkwan  
** Leaving now  
Got held up a bit sorry  
20min

 **hansol_vc  
** aye aye dw

Hansol switches onto the delivery app again, swiftly selecting the dishes into the cart and punching the order button like it’s second nature. _Estimated delivery time: 25 minutes._ Near-perfect timing. Hansol hops off the couch.

He’s in and out of the shower in five, throwing on a clean pair of sweatpants and a loose-fitting T-shirt. He takes a brief glance in his hallway mirror, carding through his damp hair in an attempt to make it stay off his forehead. His dark brown roots are beginning to grow out from underneath the bleached blonde, and the length is getting a bit too floppy for his overall liking, but he chooses to care about it at a later time.

When the doorbell rings, standing in the doorway is Hansol’s boyfriend, still dressed in his pastel pink scrubs. His hair is mussed and his undereyes look like he hasn’t slept in days. Hansol’s heart sinks.

“Hey,” Hansol says.

“Hey,” Seungkwan echoes. He looks like death.

“You look like death.” Hansol’s brain-to-mouth filter is impeccable as ever.

“I _feel_ like death. Can I take a shower?”

“You know the way,” Hansol gestures toward the bathroom. ”Want a change of clothes?” 

Seungkwan’s expression softens. “That’d be perfect. Oversized, if you can.”

Hansol nods. “I’ll drop them over there,” he points at the base of the bathroom door.

Seungkwan nods affirmatively and strolls towards the bathroom, grabbing the door handle. 

“You want company?” Hansol blurts, his speech settings clearly set on autopilot by now.

Seungkwan stills, hesitates; visibly weighing over the question in his mind, like he wants to say yes. “Next time, yeah?” he manages, looking apologetic.

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t worry about it.”

Seungkwan offers him a weak but genuinely grateful smile. “You’re the best,” he says before stepping inside the bathroom and shutting the door behind him.

Hansol turns and pads into his bedroom to dig through his closet, fishing out his slouchiest track pants and sweatshirt for Seungkwan to wear post-shower. He folds them and sets them on the floor next to the door.

The doorbell rings once more, and it’s the food. Hansol thanks the courier and carries the plastic tubs of curry and rice into the kitchen, the rich smell of coconut milk and spices and freshly steamed rice already wafting through the seams of the containers. He sets them on his tiny bar table and takes out a pair of plates and chopsticks from the cupboards.

After a while, there’s a creak of the bathroom door opening and soft sounds of approaching footsteps, and then Seungkwan appears in the kitchen. He’s wearing Hansol’s clothes, his cheeks and neck are still flushed from the shower, his blow dried hair is falling into his eyes, and Hansol feels just that tiniest bit more in love. Seungkwan’s dark red dye job from last week has begun to fade into a little more of a reddish brown, but Hansol thinks it still looks as good as the original.

The shower has seemingly relaxed Seungkwan a little; his skin is glowing, and his eyes are looking slightly less tired. Seungkwan glances at the table, and his features brighten into ones of surprise and giddiness, at which Hansol’s mouth tugs into a grin on its own accord.

“This looks so great, you have no idea,” Seungkwan beams, peering around the table, his hands performing the tiniest of excited claps.

“It’s just takeout,” Hansol mumbles sheepishly, moving to swiftly pop the lids off the containers.

“After a twelve-hour shift, it’s the best thing I’ve seen in my life,” Seungkwan says.

He takes a step closer towards Hansol, and Hansol lets himself be pulled into his boyfriend’s arms, his hands coming up to rest at the small of Seungkwan's back. 

”Thank you, really,” Seungkwan breathes against the side of Hansol’s face. 

Hansol turns his head slightly and kisses Seungkwan’s temple, basking in his warmth and the smell of freshly washed hair. Hansol swears his own shampoo somehow smells ten times better on Seungkwan than when Hansol washes his hair with it. He noses at Seungkwan's cheek, and when Seungkwan turns his face toward him, Hansol presses a soft but lingering kiss against Seungkwan's lips, feeling Seungkwan smile against his mouth.

Hansol pulls away, his hand coming up at the nape of Seungkwan’s neck, fingers kneading the muscle at the base of his head. Seungkwan breathes deep, his eyes drooping shut as if on command.

“Please don’t stop, ever,” Seungkwan sighs, melting into the touch.

”If I do that, we’ll eventually starve.”

“You’re right, I’m still hungry.” Seungkwan opens his eyes and moves to take a closer look at the curry. ”Where’d you get the food, by the way?” he asks, his tone curious.

“Do you remember that one Thai place ‘round here where we went after Jeonghan’s housewarming?”

Seungkwan ponders for a moment. Hansol imagines a tiny lightbulb atop Seungkwan’s head going off as his eyes widen and he lets out a snicker before replying. ”Was that the place where I accidentally ate your curry?”

“Exactly that one. I literally remember nothing else from that night other than you liking the red curry. It just popped into my head randomly when I was looking at takeout places. So I got us that.”

Ever so theatrical, Seungkwan claps a hand over his heart. “Romance truly isn’t dead. It’s just manifesting itself in the form of Choi Hansol.”

Hansol sticks his tongue out at him. “You’re a sap.”

“Not a sap. I’m stating pure facts.” Seungkwan wraps his arms around Hansol’s middle, pressing a swift kiss to his cheek and leaning his head on his shoulder. 

“I mean, it’s a win-win, really. You get to eat the curry you liked so much, and I’m finally able to taste it for the first time.”

Seungkwan laughs, his nose scrunching. He untangles himself from Hansol to grab a spoon off the table, scooping out a piece of tofu from the curry container.

“How is it?” Hansol asks as Seungkwan’s eyes dart around the room while he chews.

Seungkwan swallows. “Sober curry tastes as good as drunken curry,” he responds.

“That’s the best kind of curry. Now, let’s eat.”

They move to sit at the table and begin eating. Before Seungkwan digs in, he pops into the hallway and comes back with his phone in hand. He aims it at the table setup, and then there’s that familiar sound of the camera shutter.

”You—,” he drawls, tapping at his phone, “all— wish— you had— a boyfriend— like mine. Winky face. Heart.” He grins at his phone screen, clearly pleased with his photo and choice of caption. “ _Add to your story_ ,” he repeats the app command while tapping on the screen once and setting the phone face down onto the table.

Hansol tries to laugh with his mouth closed as he’s just scarfed down a spoonful of rice, but it just turns into a series of sharp sniffles through his nose. “I bet your Instagram followers have so much more of an idealized image of me than what I’m like in actuality.”

He might like to tease Seungkwan for it, but he secretly loves the way he’s always down for showing Hansol off to the world.

“Isn’t that what social media literally is for, though,” Seungkwan points out. “Besides, if anyone ever asks, at least I can say with confidence that the posts actually match the reality, thank you very much,” he continues matter-of-factly, his expression smug at first but softening into a sincere smile, and Hansol grins at him, his gaze fond.

As the two eat, Seungkwan animatedly recaps today’s event between mouthfuls of food, annoyance slipping through his tone and melding with a few pointed expletives along the way. There is a brief moment where they eat in complete silence, but it’s not an awkward one; it’s more of a sign that Seungkwan is slowly coming down from the stressful events of today. He’s also looking substantially less tense than when he first stepped inside, Hansol thinks, feeling relieved.

They clear the table after they finish eating, and despite Seungkwan’s efforts to offer to wash the dishes, Hansol insists on taking care of that. They do end up kind of doing it together, but it’s more so Seungkwan watching Hansol washing the dishes while he talks and kisses Hansol’s face in random spots at randomly spaced intervals.

“What do you want to do?” Hansol asks after they’re done. “Do you want to watch something, like a show or a movie? Or you could watch me play video games?”

“I would take you up on any of those,” Seungkwan says, and his lips part like he’s about to say _but._

“But,” Hansol fills it in for him.

“How about,” Seungkwan continues, “we just go to bed and make out for the rest of the night.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Hansol dries off his hands on the kitchen cloth. “So you weren’t kidding when I asked you if you wanted to eat anything specific tonight,” he teases, stepping forward and getting into Seungkwan’s space, testing the waters.

“Shut up, that was a genuine typo.” Seungkwan shoves at Hansol’s chest gently, but his eyes sparkle still as he looks up at Hansol.

“I repeat, _yeah right_.”

Seungkwan blows a raspberry at him.

* * *

”Your eyelashes are so long.”

”Really?”

”Yeah. It’s not fair.”

They’re lying in bed, Hansol’s head resting on Seungkwan’s chest. They’ve been like this for well over half an hour, absently talking about nothing in particular and exchanging a few memes on their phones in between.

”A lot of things in life aren’t fair, Seungkwan,” Hansol points out.

”I know,” Seungkwan laments. ”Me slaving my ass at work is one of those things.”

”You know what _is_ fair, though.”

”Mm?”

”You continuing talking about my eyelashes.”

Seungkwan chuckles quietly. ”I’m yet to understand what makes that fair.”

”It’s a perfectly fifty-fifty thing.”

”Really?”

Hansol gives him a nod. ”I have a pair of eyelashes.”

”Mm-hmm.”

”And you talk about them.”

Seungkwan cracks up again. ”Fair enough. Let me sit up so I can look at them better.”

They adjust their positions so that Seungkwan ends up sitting with his back against the headboard, and Hansol leans his head back into Seungkwan's lap.

”Alright, so," Seungkwan begins, peering down at Hansol. ”They’re pretty. You’re pretty.”

”You’re one to talk,” Hansol says.

”They’re all long and wispy. They go like _woosh_ when you blink ’n’ stuff.”

”Cool.”

”Can I touch them?”

Hansol nods, his eyes fluttering shut instinctively. Seungkwan lifts his hand and ever-so-gently runs a fingertip along Hansol’s lashes, the featherlight touch and motion sending shivers down Hansol’s spine. He makes a mental note to keep his eyes closed so that he doesn’t accidentally get them poked out.

”They’re like little brooms, actually. Pretty sure you could sweep the floor with these if you wanted to.”

”Disgusting.”

Seungkwan lets out an ugly snort.

”I’m kidding. I really like them.”

”I like you,” Hansol rasps, eyes still closed. “Can we make out now? Wasn’t that what you promised back at dinner.”

”Yeah, I did. I just got carried away by your face.”

”I can’t wait to get carried away by _your_ face,” Hansol murmurs. Seungkwan’s eyes follow him as he sits up and crawls closer, kneeling beside Seungkwan. He steadies himself with a hand on Seungkwan’s shoulder, hovering over him for a moment, and leans down to kiss him.

Seungkwan lets out a pleased sigh, opening his mouth against Hansol’s almost immediately. One of Seungkwan’s hands comes up to rest on Hansol’s forearm, while the other fits against the side of Hansol’s face. His fingertips are gentle but firm against Hansol’s cheek, keeping him there like he never wants Hansol to leave. 

If there's one thing Hansol’s learned about Seungkwan over the years, it’s that he loves his kisses wet, which is a delight for Hansol to provide. He slides his tongue against Seungkwan’s and licks along his bottom lip, feeling pleased with himself when Seungkwan’s breathy little sounds quickly start escaping between their kisses.

Hansol tilts his head slightly to get a better angle, kissing Seungkwan slow and heavy. He feels Seungkwan's hands skating along his back, one wrapping around his shoulders and the other dipping underneath his T-shirt, splaying over the small of his back.

At some point, Hansol drags his mouth away, watching as Seungkwan blindly chases his lips and lets out a whine as he fails. Seungkwan’s lips are reddened and kiss-swollen, his eyelids heavy, and there’s really not many things in the universe that work Hansol up as quickly as this one, every damn time.

“You smell good,” Hansol states, ducking down and planting a kiss on Seungkwan’s cheek.

“It’s your shampoo,” Seungkwan deadpans.

”Can I take your shirt off?” Hansol mumbles against Seungkwan’s skin, pressing kisses along the soft angle of his jaw.

Seungkwan nods violently. ”Please.”

”You’re so polite,” Hansol laughs, his voice low.

“You’re so perfect,” Seungkwan says. “You literally saved my day.” His voice is earnest.

Hansol smiles at the compliment, a little flustered. He pulls back to meet Seungkwan’s eyes. “Are you feeling any better?”

“So much better. I’m so grateful for you.”

“Anything else I can do?”

Seungkwan’s eyes are suddenly hopeful. “Fuck me so hard I forget how horrible the shift was?”

Hansol laughs without meaning to. “I can do that.”

Seungkwan makes a soft, ” _yesss_ ,” sound under his breath as he circles his arms around Hansol’s neck, pulling him down to kiss him again.

“Wait, wait,” Hansol stops him with a gentle hand against his mouth, and Seungkwan makes a muffled, disappointed grumble against it. “I’ll take your shirt off first.”

Seungkwan obliges, extending his arms out, letting Hansol lift the hem of his sweatshirt. The neckline gets stuck around Seungkwan’s head, but he manages to get it off after a moment of struggling. Hansol pulls his own shirt over his head as well, and they discard them in a pile on the floor next to the bed.

Seungkwan lies back, happily pulling Hansol down on top of him. They both sigh as Seungkwan slants their mouths together again, his fingers tangling in Hansol’s hair. Hansol’s hands travel over his body, smoothing along his chest, his ribs, down the plane of his stomach. Seungkwan’s skin is warm and soft, and Hansol can feel Seungkwan’s muscles tense and relax under his touch. 

His hands finally settle at the dip of Seungkwan’s waist and he gives into the urge of squeezing Seungkwan’s sides, and Seungkwan sniffles a laugh through his nose. Hansol pushes his leg in between Seungkwan’s thighs and grinds down, smiling into the kiss when Seungkwan rolls his hips languidly, half-hard and responsive.

They make out like that for a good while until they’re both hard and forcibly steadying their breaths, Seungkwan’s hands clinging to Hansol’s biceps, his tongue messily working Hansol’s mouth open from the seams of his lips. Hansol nearly loses himself to Seungkwan grinding against him and shoving his tongue into Hansol’s mouth like they’re teenagers getting it on for the first time, but he remembers Seungkwan’s request right before his brain bids adieu to his resolve forever. 

He breaks their kiss to scoot down Seungkwan’s body, fingertips dipping under the waistband of Seungkwan’s sweatpants and tugging them down. Seungkwan’s dick bobs out, the sight so obscene and catching Hansol off guard that he needs to pause whatever the hell he was doing just now.

Hansol tries to say something not-dumb but fails. An, “Oh, wow,” escapes his lips as he watches the way Seungkwan’s cock curves up against his stomach.

“Hey. Don’t act like it’s your first time seeing it,” Seungkwan complains, lifting his hips slightly so Hansol can pull the pants off his legs.

“I’m not,” Hansol giggles, tossing Seungkwan’s sweats atop their clothing pile. He adjusts his position between Seungkwan’s legs and reaches around him. “Ah,” he muses, grabbing a handful of ass. “My happy place.”

Seungkwan lets out a squawk that morphs into a huff of laughter. “Oh god, get out of here.”

“No, I don’t think I will,” Hansol murmurs, “I’m perfectly peachy down here.” He punctuates his sentence with a slap to Seungkwan’s ass and a squeeze, and Seungkwan yelps.

“Stooop,” Seungkwan preens. His face is buried in his hands, but he’s beginning to shake with noiseless laughter. Cute. Hansol cracks up as well, cheek resting at the top of Seungkwan’s thigh as they both laugh.

Hansol loves this, though. Ever since they'd gotten together, sex had never been a question of pretense or performance. Sometimes they fumble, sometimes they start laughing out of nowhere and with no end in sight so they have to pause completely. It’s nice, it’s genuine, and Hansol wouldn’t have it any other way. And he’s pretty sure Seungkwan feels the same.

Hansol regains his composure first, pressing a kiss to the junction of Seungkwan’s thigh and hip before leaning up to mouth at the base of his cock. Seungkwan’s laugh fizzles out into a groan, and his fingers card through Hansol’s hair, combing them off his forehead to get a better view. Hansol props himself up on an elbow, wrapping his free hand at the base of Seungkwan’s length and stroking it slowly, working his lips and tongue along the side up to the tip before sinking down.

Seungkwan lets out a shout, clapping his own hand over his mouth, the sound fizzling into a whimper as Hansol sucks on the head of his dick, spit pooling at the corners of his mouth. He pulls back just a little, his mouth still on Seungkwan’s dick as he looks up and makes eye contact with Seungkwan, who moans at the sight.

The sounds coming out of Seungkwan are slowly making Hansol a little light-headed, too, and he grinds down into the mattress, chasing any trace of friction available for him right now. Seungkwan’s hand comes up to stroke through Hansol’s hair again, the gesture feeling almost reassuring somehow.

”You look so hot like that,” he hears Seungkwan’s voice above him, low and soft. ”I love the hair on you.”

”I need to get it cut soon,” Hansol pulls back to mumble, his hand continuing to work at the base of Seungkwan’s cock.

”Over my dead body,” Seungkwan says emphatically, but with no seriousness to his tone. ”Do you— a-ah,” he falters when Hansol tongues at his slit, ”d-d’you like the blonde still?”

”It’s great. I’ll probably dye the roots next time.”

”Good.”

Hansol pulls off Seungkwan’s cock with a pop after a moment and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, hopping off the bed and ridding himself of his sweats and underwear. He strides over to his wardrobe to unearth a bottle of lube and a condom from the sock drawer, and flops back onto the bed, Seungkwan’s gaze heavy on him. Hansol crawls over to Seungkwan and gives him one more sloppy kiss with approximately ninety percent of tongue before scooting down on the bed and situating himself between Seungkwan’s legs again.

He nudges Seungkwan’s thighs further apart, clicking open the lube bottle and squeezing a generous amount on his fingers, trying to warm it a bit between his thumb and pointer finger. Seungkwan squirms a little when Hansol goes in with the first finger, and he lets him adjust, pressing soothing kisses against the inside of Seungkwan’s thigh.

”Another,” Seungkwan whispers after a moment. Hansol obliges, pulling out just enough to sloppily squirt more lube onto his hand and work a second finger in slowly.

Seungkwan stops talking, then, but continues moaning and gasping whenever Hansol curls his fingers at just the right angle. While Hansol likes the way Seungkwan remains his chatty self in bed, a trait he finds even hotter is Seungkwan’s words faltering at whatever Hansol’s doing, or him cutting himself off by an involuntary moan, or his breath hitching whenever Hansol rubs over his prostate.

Some time into the third finger, Seungkwan starts getting a bit hysterical, his breaths coming out ragged as he grinds down on Hansol’s hand in time with the thrusts of his fingers. Unable to take it anymore, Hansol stills his hand, sticking his free hand between his own legs to palm at his cock, letting himself get off at the sight of Seungkwan lying beneath him. Hansol’s eyes roam over the broad expanse of his skin, his lips shiny with spit, his hard, leaking dick resting against his belly.

“Hurry,” Seungkwan grits out, rolling his hips, clearly having realized what Hansol’s doing. ”Want you inside.”

“I _am_ inside, technically,” Hansol teases, hooking his fingers slightly, and Seungkwan curses under his breath.

”Asshole. Want your dick in me already.”

“Yessir, coming right up.”

”God.”

Hansol pulls his fingers out, ignoring Seungkwan’s mournful whine, and sits up and climbs up the bed, grabbing the condom and lube as he goes. Slicking up his fingers, he lets out a shuddery exhale as he gives himself a couple of strokes. He rips open the foil packet, hissing through his teeth as he rolls the condom on with shaky hands. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he catches Seungkwan staring at him, his lips parted and shiny with spit, his fingers loosely stroking his cock. Hansol’s head snaps to look at him fully, stopping Seungkwan in his tracks like he’s just been caught with his hand in the forbidden cookie jar.

Hansol grins and swats Seungkwan’s hand away, leaning in briefly and kissing the offended pout off Seungkwan’s lips. Hansol kneels in between his legs once more and grips the backs of Seungkwan’s thighs, hooking his knees up and over Hansol’s shoulders.

“Yes, _yes,_ finally,” Seungkwan pants, sounding both incredibly horny and genuinely overjoyed, and Hansol gives up on trying to decide whether that’s more hot or cute and settles on both.

It’s here where Hansol realizes he’d forgotten to slick himself up after putting on the condom.

”Babe,” he calls out to Seungkwan, ”pass me the lube, will you.”

Seungkwan feels around on the bed for a second, grabbing the bottle as he finds it and handing it to Hansol. ”Thanks for making me not hurt,” he murmurs, chuckling a little.

Hansol squirts a generous dollop on his palm, trying to ignore the almost-lewd sound of the lube squelching between his fingers as he spreads it down his length. ”As long as it hurts good and not… not-good, I’m at least doing a decent job.”

Or something like that.

”Exactly like that,” Seungkwan says. His head falls back in anticipation when Hansol lines himself up. “God, _yes_ ,” he rasps when the tip of Hansol’s dick presses into him. 

Seungkwan lets out a hiss through gritted teeth, and Hansol takes it as a sign to go slowly, inch by inch until he bottoms out. He lets Seungkwan adjust, waits for Seungkwan’s reassuring nod before pulling out a little and sinking into his ass again. Hansol drags it out for the first few minutes, just rocking his hips into Seungkwan and taking in the pretty sight in front of him.

As nice as it is to fuck Seungkwan slow and thorough, teetering on agonizing, Hansol still refuses to waste time. He picks up his pace, one hand keeping an unwavering grip on Seungkwan’s waist and the other against the back of Seungkwan’s thigh, spreading him open. The two moan in tandem as he grinds deep into Seungkwan, building up a steady rhythm, giving himself a mental pat on the back when Seungkwan grows noticeably more vocal between each thrust.

“Kiss me,” Seungkwan whimpers feebly. 

Hansol jerks his head in a nod, having gone over this exchange enough times to know that Seungkwan’s demand is more of a, “Let me kiss you,” as Hansol’s kind of busy with other things at this point. Seungkwan’s hands bracket the sides of Hansol’s face, guiding him into Seungkwan’s space. Their lips meet in a sloppy mess of tongues, Seungkwan’s mouth going slack on a particularly hard series of thrusts and Hansol sucking aimlessly on his tongue.

Seungkwan’s head lolls back against the pillows and Hansol slumps forward against his chest, Seungkwan’s heady moans reverberating against Hansol’s lips as he mouths wetly at his neck. Hansol sucks on the sensitive skin there, pausing whenever he hears Seungkwan whimper below him, not even realizing he’s biting on it. He’s careful not to give Seungkwan any hickeys above the neckline of his scrubs, having been reprimanded a few times too many for it. 

Then again, at this point, Hansol really can’t bring himself to care, and judging by the way Seungkwan looks right now and the sounds he’s making, Hansol doubts he does either.

“This okay?” Hansol asks, hissing out a breath.

“Ha— ah, harder,” Seungkwan chokes out, voice spent and desperate.

Hansol adjusts his position slightly and angles Seungkwan’s hips a little for better access, slamming into Seungkwan’s ass at a pace he hasn’t gone at for a hot minute. Seungkwan’s reduced to near-sobs by now, spilling out parts of sentences like, ”You feel so good,” or, ”You look so h— so fucking hot like this,” or, ”I’m so lucky, holy shit,” among many others.

Hansol tries his best to coordinate between railing Seungkwan and working his mouth on his neck _and_ tuning into Seungkwan’s lust-filled compliments, but he quickly veers off to concentrate on simply the first part. Breathy _ah, ah, ah_ ’s spill past Seungkwan’s lips each time Hansol pounds into him, so hard and deep Hansol himself swears he’s seeing stars.

Hansol knows Seungkwan is close when he wedges a hand between them to frantically pump his cock, red mouth falling open, sweaty bangs matted to his forehead. Hansol’s vision begins to darken around the corners of his eyes, the rhythm of his thrusts faltering, and he’s fully aware he’s not going to last very long either.

Seungkwan comes noiselessly, brows furrowed and eyes scrunched shut, shaking in Hansol’s arms as he spills all over his own chest and belly. Hansol helps him ride it out, fucking into him as he chases his own orgasm, gasping as he slams into Seungkwan once, twice, emptying into the condom and ultimately collapsing on top of Seungkwan.

Hansol channels the remaining bits of his strength to slowly pull out of Seungkwan, ignoring his quiet sounds of discomfort. Hansol rolls off the bed, tying off the condom and discarding it into the trash can in his bedroom. He trudges into the bathroom and comes back with an unceremonious wad of dampened toilet paper, kneeling on the bed and wiping at the mess on Seungkwan’s body. He chucks the toilet paper into the trash can in a basketball-esque move, scores, throws his arms up along with a tired, " _woo!"_ , and flops down on the bed next to his boyfriend.

Seungkwan just stares at the ceiling, his body splayed out like a starfish.

”I’m officially at a loss for words.”

”Wow.” Hansol turns onto his side so that he’s facing Seungkwan, grinning wide. ”The ever-so-well-spoken Boo Seungkwan is officially at a loss for words.”

Seungkwan snorts, swatting weakly at Hansol’s shoulder. “How the hell were you so good. I can’t believe you’re real. I swear all of my bones are gone. Dissolved.”

Hansol laughs, low and breathless. “What can I say, I’ve had—,” he flicks his wrist dramatically to peer at his imaginary watch. “A little over a year to practice.”

Seungkwan giggles at him. “I can’t wait for you to have a shitty day at work again so I can return the favor,” he says, turning his body towards Hansol and lazily flopping an arm onto his side.

“Don’t wish agony on me,” Hansol replies between chuckles. ”Besides, it doesn’t have to be a shitty day at work. You can return it at any time.” Hansol pairs his reply with a sly smile and a questioning, corny wiggle of his eyebrows.

Seungkwan’s eyes widen and he bursts into laughter. “I am _not_ —” he sputters, “I physically cannot go again, you know that.”

Between the two, only Hansol has been able to be worked up for a second service, a trait that’s been the death of Seungkwan a couple times too many. Usually, Seungkwan complains if Hansol presses on, but sometimes Hansol gets lucky with something like, _“But I’m just so horny for you all the time, babe, I can’t help it,”_ and Seungkwan reluctantly gives in despite his body nearly giving way underneath him.

This time around, however, Hansol decides not to push him. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding. Let’s sleep. You’ve had a long day.”

“You made it so great, though.” Seungkwan says, leaning in. “Love you,” he murmurs, blindly pressing a kiss to Hansol’s face. It lands right under Hansol’s eye, and Hansol breaks into a grin.

”Love you too.”


End file.
